Dear Laundry,

I've been away a while. I've been MIA. I assure you however that I am anything but MIA. See, the problem is that I'm simply too busy these days, and it's time to come back. Pictures? I'm sure there have been some taken somewhere, but not nearly enough. I've been a slacker. This is the result of a lot of things, but one of the biggest contributors is laundry. My relationship with laundry is pretty rocky, so this is my desperate effort to reconcile this relationship. Here it goes...

Dear Laundry,

What's happened to us? Remember the days when I'd lovingly load you into a single basket and walk out my back door to the shared laundry room out back and carefully wash one load a week? Remember how I'd promptly bring you back inside, sort you, fold you, hang you up, and tenderly place you in drawers? Remember? There was so much love, and it was mutual.

Over the years we seem to have grown distant from one another. I feel like I've done my part to nurture our relationship, I've dedicated an entire room in my home to you and furnished it with the best machines my money can buy. I've bought extra hampers, more laundry baskets, the best detergents and have even upped my game by bathing you in liquid fabric softener. I can't think of anything more I can do for our relationship, I need to see this love reciprocated, yet despite my greatest effort I feel as if you are revolting.

Gone are the days of one load a week. Despite my loving efforts and obsessive compulsive habits of folding you've made every effort to overwhelm me, and I feel myself beginning to buckle. With 5+ loads a week, and your cunning ability to quietly sit wet in the washer without telling me for more than 18 hours so you can have a re-wash is really starting to push me away. Oh and the folding, the folding. The folding is still pleasent, I still enjoy a perfectly folded shirt, but you must learn not to abuse my willingness to fold you perfectly. When there are 50 shirts demanding to be perfectly folded in one night, and 25 pairs of undies, 35 pairs of socks, let alone the towels, rags, pants, pajamas, blankets, sheets, and under shirts, what is a girl to do? Do you honestly not see that you have gone too far?

Even now as I write this I can hear you quietly calling me from the laundry room. Yes, I know you have been sitting clean in the dryer and laundry basket for a week now. I know that you are also piled in the hallway upstairs waiting to be washed. Do you see what you are doing? You are taking over my life, and my home! Remember those hampers I bought for you? Why can't you stay there? Why do you insist on spilling out onto the floor and scattering yourself around the kids rooms and bathrooms? Why can't you work with me? I feel like I'm pulling the entire load here and a little help would be so appreciated. Maybe you could just try to not get dirty so quickly? Maybe you could stay nicely folded in your proper place in the right drawer, maybe? Oh, you know what would really help, and it's just a suggestion, but you could stay on your hangers in the closet, that would be great!

Look, I don't know what's happened to us over the years, but I really want to get back on the same page. I love you laundry, I do, but I can't stand by your side and let you walk all over me. Show me that you love me too, or I'll give up on you entirely. You know, as I do more laundry, nudists sound less crazy. Keep that in mind next time you throw a week at me like this one. A relationship is built on mutual trust and sacrifice. It's time you start sacrificing a little more so that I can trust a little more, or something along those lines. I'm just sick of doing all the sacrificing, ok?

Alright sweetheart, let's see how next week goes. I'm glade we had this talk. Love you!

Chantell